Hangovers and Dragons
by xmagic
Summary: Ginny is a bit of a party girl, staying out all night and coming home drunk. She's sixteen, what do you expect? But her parents don't like it... Rated for safety, more for implied stuff than anything.
1. One

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
Bloody. Fucking. Sunlight.  
  
So. Bright.  
  
Painful.  
  
Burning. Retinas.  
  
Must. Close. Blinds.  
  
BEEP!  
  
Stupid. Alarm.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
These thoughts made their way at an amazing speed through my mind, before I was forced to leave the relative comfort of my bed and get to the bathroom as fast as was humanly possible.  
  
Ah, sweet porcelain shrine. How I loved thee last night.  
  
Before my drunken musings could go any further, what little was left in my stomach made an encore appearance. I noted vaguely that it all splashed quite musically into the toilet bowl, with lovely little splashes.  
  
When my nausea was finally assuaged, I flushed the toilet and leant back against the cold bathroom wall. Gingerly, I stood and brushed my teeth before peering at myself in the mirror.  
  
My eyes were bloodshot, and rather squinty, my pupils were contracted so much so that they had nearly disappeared in the warm caramel brown of my irises. The makeup that had taken me so long to fix last night was now smeared artfully around my eyes; black mascara, kohl eyeliner, and cream eyeshadow in a lovely shade of black. My hair hung in loose tangles down to my shoulder blades, and when I tried to smooth it out, I was rewarded with a hand covered in sticky styling products.  
  
Gaze drifting down to my pajamas, I wasn't all that surprised to see that I wasn't in pajamas at all, but a lacy, scarlet push-up bra, and matching boy- short knickers. Vaguely, I noticed a small bruise on the crest of my left breast, and wondered who had given me a hickey. Last night was pretty much a blur.  
  
Okay, Ginny. Enough standing in the bathroom, and enough thinking. Fluorescent lights aren't good for killer headaches, and thinking makes your head spin. Leave the bathroom now.  
  
Deciding this was probably an intelligent thing to do, for my head was starting to feel as though it were being split in two and driven full of nails, I stumbled out of the bathroom towards my bedroom.  
  
I didn't quite make it. Instead of weaving down the hall to my bedroom, I bumped into something incredibly solid and rather squishy, causing me to fall on my rear in the middle of the corridor.  
  
Ooh, that hurts. Mental note: look where you're going, so as to prevent further falling on rear. It's not fun.  
  
"Ouch," was about the only word my brain could process, and I glared up at my older brother. To my surprise, he was glaring down at me, from his height of six feet.  
  
He reached a hand down, to help me up, and I accepted his aid, figuring that I would probably have to crawl back to my room if he didn't help me up.  
  
"Have a nice time last night, Ginny?" Fred asked in a voice that was unnecessarily loud – I was standing right in front of him, after all. What little part of my brain was functioning properly noticed that he sounded sort of upset, as though I had done something wrong.  
  
"I think so," I mumbled, painfully straining my mind to recall any detail of the previous evening.  
  
"You think so?" Came another voice, not belonging to Fred.  
  
Ah, George. I could make out his form coming closer to where Fred and I stood in the hall.  
  
"Yes, I think so. But I can't recall a whole lot."  
  
Ooh. Bad move, Ginny! That's precisely why they're upset! You came home at five in the morning! In a drunken stupor! Someone had to carry you home! Came the little voice in my mind that had a shred of intelligence at the moment.  
  
Both boys glowered at me, and I was really quite frightened – they were both a lot bigger than me, not to mention the fact that there were two of them and only one of me.  
  
I tried to move towards my room, being as how I was feeling quite unsteady on my feet, but neither Fred nor George would move aside.  
  
"Can one of you p-p-please m-move?" I yawned, looking at both of them as innocently as my bloodshot eyes could manage.  
  
Again, they glowered at me, before Fred brushed past me towards the stairs, followed closely by George.  
  
Huh. Well. They didn't have to be so rude.  
  
I padded down the hall to my room, and closed the door behind me once I was inside. Hobbling over to the window, I closed the curtains to block out the infernal sunlight before dropping gently onto my bed and returning to my drunken slumber.  
  
I had just fallen into blissful oblivion when a pounding started on my bedroom door, and I distinctly heard a voice shouting on the other side of the portal.  
  
"VIRGINIA WEASLEY YOU GET OUT HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!"  
  
Better go, Gin-gin. Mum sounds pretty mad. And what was with Fred and George? Maybe mum'll explain it.  
  
I rolled out of bed and landed quite unceremoniously on the floor of my bedroom.  
  
Ooh. Gin, don't do that again. That hurts.  
  
Managing to get to my feet, I stumbled to the closed door of my room, and pulled it open just as my mum was about to start pounding on the wooden panel again. I was greeted with a furious glare from the redheaded woman standing in front of me, and I rubbed my eyes sleepily, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet and sleep.  
  
"VIRGINIA WEASLEY! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ARRIVING HOME AT FIVE IN THE MORNING IN A DRUNKEN STUPOR AND REEKING OF SPIRITS?" She shrieked, and I winced.  
  
"Mum. Headache. No shouting. Please. Hurts." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes again.  
  
"Well it serves you right to be in pain, Virginia! Showing up at home in HIS arms at the crack of dawn!" Mum exclaimed, though she was kind enough to lower her voice a decibel level or two.  
  
"Whose arms?"  
  
GINNY! You idiot! She's going to be even more furious now! Just shut up! Let her do the talking!  
  
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU WERE WITH LAST NIGHT WHEN YOU CAME HOME?" She was back to shrieking.  
  
Wisely following the intelligent part of my brain, I made a non-committal noise in response.  
  
She shot me another glare, before leaving my room and stomping downstairs. Vaguely, I heard her voice downstairs, sounding slightly hysterical as she spoke to my father and brothers.  
  
Well, Gin-gin. You certainly messed up this time. But I didn't DO anything! Didn't DO anything? What do you mean? You showed up at home at five in the morning, in a drunken stupor, apparently in someone's arms. You messed up. But if I don't remember it, I can't be blamed for anything. You'll be in more trouble if you give them that line. Now you'd better get back to sleep if you want any chance of sleeping this off.  
  
I listened once again to the intelligent part of my brain, and crawled back into my bed, happy to go to sleep and deal with my mother when my head wasn't pounding quite as much. Unfortunately, my happiness was cut short by more pounding on my door.  
  
"Head hurts. Sleepy. Go 'way." I mumbled, just loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door. Apparently, my family isn't very kind when it comes to requests from the youngest, because the pounding continued.  
  
I rolled out of bed again, forgetting my previous advice to myself, and wobbled to the door. I pulled it open again, this time to see Fred and George glaring at me again.  
  
"Wha'd'you want?" I mumbled, scratching my head.  
  
"Mum wants to talk to you," Fred said.  
  
"Don't wanna talk. Tired. Head hurts."  
  
"Too bad. Now put some clothes on, and get your butt downstairs." George retorted.  
  
"No. Gonna sleep." I started to close the door, but Fred held it open.  
  
"Get downstairs. Now." George repeated.  
  
"Fine." I turned away, figuring that I'd say I'd go downstairs and when they left I'd just crawl back into bed, and no one would be the wiser.  
  
Apparently they were wise to my plot, seeing as how they both stood in front of my door and waited until I had wrapped myself in a bathrobe and stumbled back towards the door.  
  
I followed them down the hall, and down the stairs.  
  
"Ooh. Bright sunlight. Hurts." I mumbled, squinting my eyes against the sun beating through the kitchen window.  
  
"Sit." My mother said tersely, pointing to a seat at the kitchen table and ignoring my complaint about the sunlight.  
  
I figured it would be better to be obedient, since that would probably get it all over with faster, so I lowered myself gingerly into the wooden chair.  
  
"Do you remember anything from last night?" She asked, her tone business like and icy.  
  
I followed my earlier advice and made a non-committal noise.  
  
"Answer the question, Virginia," came my father's voice. I looked up to see that he, to, was glaring at me.  
  
What is this, Glare At Ginny Day, or something?  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"Virginia," ooh. How I hated it when mum's voice got like that!  
  
"Not really." I figured that's a pretty neutral answer, so pretty safe.  
  
"What do you mean, not really?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Elaborate, Ginny."  
  
"I don't wanna."  
  
"Ginny."  
  
"Not a lot."  
  
"Elaborate."  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
She seemed quite disturbed by answer, and looked at my father with a worried expression.  
  
"So you don't remember anything about last night?" This was dad, asking.  
  
"No. Can I go?"  
  
"No, you may not."  
  
I sighed. I knew what was coming.  
  
"Do you remember who you were with?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Where you were?"  
  
"No."  
  
Typical interrogation. I'd noticed before, though, that it was only ever me who got interrogated – Fred and George and Ron and Bill and Percy and Charlie could all go out whenever, and wouldn't be put through this afterwards.  
  
"What you did?"  
  
"No."  
  
Dad sighed.  
  
"Ginny, you've got to stop all this."  
  
"Wha'd'you mean?"  
  
"You've been out nearly every weekend this summer. Half the time you miss your curfew. We don't know who you're with, or where you're going, and you're dressing like a prostitute three quarters of the time. You've got to stop."  
  
"No."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I said no. George and Fred and Ron and Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do whatever they want, so I'm going to do whatever I want."  
  
"Ginny, do you want to know who brought you home last night?"  
  
"I don't really care."  
  
"You would if you knew who it was."  
  
"I said I don't care."  
  
"You should."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you're going to see him on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow."  
  
"So?"  
  
"He's probably going to say something about it, and you're going to feel like a fool if you don't have a clue what he's talking about."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I don't think you're going to want to feel like a fool in front of him."  
  
"And you know this why?"  
  
"Trust me."  
  
I was feeling slightly more sober, and my father's voice had an ominous ring to it. I wracked my brain for any recollection of who I was with last night – more to prove to my parents that I was capable of remembering than curiosity as to who had brought me home. 


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
A/N: This chapter is a flashback type thing. Just thought I'd warn you.  
  
I had been surprised, as I stood in line to get into the muggle club, to see him standing in front of me. At first I hadn't thought it was him, but when he turned – presumably because I had accidentally-on-purpose bumped into him – my original deductions were confirmed.  
  
He had seemed equally surprised to see me, but once he got over his initial shock, he seemed pleased to see me. I figured at the time that it was more to do with my appearance, than anything.  
  
I had dressed carefully that evening, pulling on the clothes I had worked so hard to be able to afford. The too-short leather skirt, fishnet stockings, leather boots, and leather bustier all showed off my figure, and his eyes had roamed my body appraisingly as we both stood in line.  
  
He had smirked, I had grinned, and when I spotted him again inside the club, he had purchased a drink for me and himself. I followed him through the club towards a secluded couch near the back that was hidden partially behind a gauzy wall of fabric. He pushed through the curtains, and I followed suit, wondering all the time how he had known about this place.  
  
He had seated himself on the white leather couch, and I watched him for a moment, a little unsure of myself. My gaze traveled over his body, which I noticed for the first time to be quite built; he, like me, was usually hidden beneath the tent-like robes that were the uniform at Hogwarts. He was wearing all black, like me, though his clothes were accented with silver at the hems, while mine were accented with black ribbons to contrast the leather.  
  
A mirror hung on the wall behind the couch he was sitting on, and I cast an absent glance in it, taking in once again the dramatic makeup and hairstyle that had taken me hours to perfect.  
  
He offered me one of the drinks, and I sat beside him on the couch, taking the proffered glass. Inside the snifter was an amber liquid; brandy. He watched as I sniffed the pungent aroma before downing the elixir in one gulp. He was surprised, and downed his own drink – not one to be shown up by a girl. His face screwed up as the liquor slid down his throat, and I had laughed.  
  
He kept buying drinks, more for me than for himself, and I kept drinking them. About an hour into the evening, I was feeling quite relaxed, and had settled myself on his lap, my back to his chest, resting my head back on his shoulder.  
  
"Having fun?" He asked, tracing a small pattern on my thigh with one long, pale finger.  
  
"Lots of fun," I replied, wriggling slightly on his lap.  
  
I felt his lips on my neck, and knew that I was about to have a lot more fun. He bit my neck softly, leaving tiny marks on my exposed flesh, and I sighed contentedly. I thought for a moment, before I turned on his lap so I was straddling him, my skirt riding up my thighs. He groaned, and caught my lips in a searing kiss, his hands grasping my rear as I ground my hips into his.  
  
His velvet tongue passed across my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to allow him the entry he asked for. My hands ran up over his chest and the back of his neck to tangle in his silky blonde hair, as he deepened the kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip.  
  
After a moment, he pulled back, causing a small moan of disappointment on my part. His breathing was slightly ragged, and my own was rather faster than usual.  
  
"Liked that, did you?" He asked smugly, silver-gray eyes glittering with amusement.  
  
"You didn't seem so disappointed with it yourself," I retorted, grinding my hips against his once more. I was rewarded for my efforts with a groan from him.  
  
"You are such a tease," he taunted.  
  
"You don't seem to mind," I returned, running my hands over his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"There's only one way you'll be able to shut me up," I replied suggestively, and soon found my lips caught once more by his.  
  
He kissed me harder, enough so that my lips bruised, and I kissed him back just as roughly, once again tangling my hands in his hair. His lips released mine, after a few tense moments of trying to see who would get the upper hand in the situation, and I purred like a kitten when his teeth grazed my neck.  
  
Releasing me again, he gently pushed me off his lap. Pouting, I watched him leave our little alcove, and wondered vaguely if he had tired of me already. I was just about to go in search of him, when he returned with a bottle of brandy and dropped beside me on the couch.  
  
He opened the bottle, and handed it to me, watching me intently with those beautiful silver eyes. I placed the bottle to my lips, and took a long, slow drink, letting the liquid slide down my throat. I handed the bottle back to him, and he placed it on a small table beside the couch.  
  
I slunk back onto his lap, straddling him again, and he smirked. I caught his lips this time, and we remained that way for a while, quite content with our positions, the bottle of brandy sitting forgotten on the table. After a moment, I picked up the bottle, and took another long drink, by then feeling quite relaxed and not having a care in the world.  
  
When he released my lips again, some thirty minutes later, I moaned and bit his neck softly, my canines leaving four small indentations on the side of his neck. He started to stand, so I ceased my toying with his smooth skin, and slithered from his lap again, pouting.  
  
I was about to ask him what was wrong, when he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the alcove. I followed, curious, and soon found myself outside the club. He continued to pull me along, stopping occasionally to peck me on the cheek or the lips. When we reached a corner of the street, we crossed to the other side, where we stood for a moment before a cab came trolling by. He hailed the black vehicle, and we climbed inside, where he told the cabby an address.  
  
Some twenty minutes later, the cab pulled to a stop outside a large and beautiful looking house, and he slipped out of the back seat before helping me out. We climbed the front steps, and he pushed open the large mahogany doors, guiding me into a dark and deserted entryway.  
  
I stumbled, catching the heel of my boot on the edge of a rug, and he caught me. Giggling, I tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he scooped me up, my head hanging over his shoulder, and carried me through the house.  
  
He took me to a room in the west wing of the house, and I gasped at the sight. It was all black marble and mahogany, with silk curtains and bed sheets in hues of deep green and silver. He carried me directly to the bed, and dropped me on the soft mattress.  
  
I giggled, and he pounced on me, like a cat on a mouse, and ravaged my mouth. My hands went to the buttons on his shirt, and I undid the top one, and the next one, and the one after that, until at last I was able to pull the black garment from his shoulders.  
  
His chest was beautifully pale and perfectly defined, and a moan of longing escaped my lips at the sight of it.  
  
His own hands were busy with the ribbon on the leather bustier that covered my chest, unlacing it slowly and teasingly. I wanted to help him, to get the thing off faster, but knew he was doing it more to make me writhe. He was doing a good job.  
  
At last, he pulled the ribbon from the front, and the leather fell away from my chest to reveal a strapless, lacy crimson bra covering my breasts. He groaned at the sight, and his fingers moved down to the clasp on my skirt, eager to remove that as well.  
  
He got the skirt off quickly, and my boots and my stockings soon followed it, until I lay on his bed in nothing but my scarlet underwear. He stood, and I relaxed on the bed as his gaze traveled hungrily over my nearly naked body.  
  
A wicked smile crept across his face, and he crossed to the desk sitting in the corner of the room. He rummaged around in one of the drawers, and turned around a moment later with a small black camera in his hand.  
  
I watched as he approached, flicking a few dials on the camera, and came to stand beside the bed, looking down at me. He raised the camera to his eye, and a sly smile played on my lips. A flash of light, and he lowered the camera.  
  
I sat up, and he took another picture. I crawled to the back of the bed, and a flash behind me told me he had taken another picture. Dropping into the mound of pillows at the head of the bed, I watched intently as he walked to the foot of the bed and snapped another picture before returning the camera to his desk.  
  
He climbed onto the bed, and when he reached me, my hands drifted down to his trousers, where I could feel through the fabric a hard bulge. He groaned, as I ran my hand over his groin, and his hands slid under my back, his fingers deftly unhooking the clasp of my bra. His pants went next, soon followed by my underwear and his boxers.  
  
*****  
  
I awoke some time later to the soft sound of breathing beside my ear. His arm was thrown across my chest, holding me tight to him in a possessive manner. I reached down and grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers to wake him.  
  
He woke slowly, eyes peering at me groggily, and I smiled contentedly. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, before rolling onto his back. I slid closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped one arm around my shoulders.  
  
"What time is it?" I asked sleepily, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Half two," he replied, brushing his thumb over my lips.  
  
"Mmm, I still have a couple hours," I murmured, snuggling deeper into the blankets.  
  
"Then I guess we should make the best of them," He replied, kissing my forehead.  
  
"We should. But I'm thirsty, d'you have anything to drink in this place?"  
  
He laughed, and sat up, letting me drop back to the pillows. He climbed out of bed, not bothering to cover himself, and went to a wardrobe on the far wall of the room. After rummaging around in the wardrobe for a moment, he withdrew a large bottle of clear liquid that I recognized as vodka.  
  
Returning to the bed, he offered me the bottle, and I took a short drink of the fiery fluid, wincing as it slid down my throat.  
  
He laughed, and leant back on the headboard. I followed suit, taking another draught from the bottle of vodka.  
  
"Like it?" He asked, raising a regal brow.  
  
"Delicious," I replied, downing more of the clear elixir.  
  
By now, I was feeling rather tipsy, and leant into his shoulder, giggling like mad.  
  
"I think you've had enough for the moment," he said tauntingly, taking the bottle from my hand.  
  
I watched him place the bottle – whose contents were now considerably less than they had been when I started – on the side table. Wanting more, I tried to clamber over him, towards the nightstand, but was restrained by his arm around my waist. I started to whine, but was cut off by his lips on mine, and soon found myself beneath him, his lips torturing my neck.  
  
*****  
  
Again, I woke to his breath by my ear, and shivered in delight. Feeling rather giddy still, I prodded him in the stomach, and he groaned and opened his eyes.  
  
"Vodka?" I asked, looking pointedly at the half-empty bottle standing innocently on the side table.  
  
He grinned, and handed me the bottle, watching as I took short sip after short sip, significantly reducing the amount of alcohol in the clear glass container.  
  
"What's the time?" I inquired after a moment, licking my lips.  
  
"Half four," He answered, glancing at his clock.  
  
"Oh, shit."  
  
"Problem?"  
  
"Should have been home..."  
  
"Missed curfew?" He helped, as I stumbled for the words that wouldn't come to my intoxicated brain.  
  
I nodded dumbly, and he sighed.  
  
"I suppose we'd better get you home then," he said after a moment in which neither of us did anything.  
  
Again, I nodded dumbly, and he crawled out of bed, to begin the hunt for my clothes after dressing himself. Soon enough, he had found them, and was helping me get my stockings on when I swayed on my feet and collapsed on the bed.  
  
"Th-that was f-f-fun," I giggled, standing once more and leaning on his shoulder for support. He smirked, and started to pull one of my boots on. I watched him struggle with the stiff new leather, and giggled again at the sight. At last, I was dressed, and he helped me to stand.  
  
I wobbled down the hall, leaning heavily on his shoulder the entire way. We reached the front door, and he helped me down the stairs, carefully sitting me on the bottom step while he went to get a car. It took a few moments, but soon I heard the rumble of the engine, and the headlights were shining in my eyes.  
  
I squinted in the light, and was startled when he was standing in front of me, helping me to stand. Then I was in the car, moving down the road at a speed that, in my state of mind, was alarmingly fast. Somewhere during the drive, I passed into a daze, and was hardly able to walk when we reached the Burrow.  
  
So he helped me once again, practically carrying me to my front door – indeed, he did carry me when we reached the walkway, as my legs buckled beneath me. As I was unable to open the door myself, he knocked softly on the door with his foot, his arms being rather full.  
  
To his surprise, the door creaked open. Standing on the other side was a bleary-eyed Ron who looked quite terrified, a hyperventilating Hermione Granger, and a shocked and furious looking Harry Potter.  
  
They stared at us stupidly for a moment, recognizing me but not who I was with. And then, three voices all at once:  
  
"MALFOY?!" 


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
A/N: The previous chapter was a flashback – I already told you that. But that was more to tell you what happened than anything – Ginny didn't remember all that. Anyway...  
  
I scrunched my eyes closed, trying to remember whom I had been with, where I had gone, and what I had done the previous night.  
  
It was like looking at a movie, frame by frame, but with some parts missing. I saw his hair, his face, his eyes, his smirk – oh, that smirk! I remembered the vodka, and his lips on mine, and the feel of him inside me, and the rest was a bit of a blur.  
  
I opened my eyes again, to see my mum and dad and Fred and George watching me intently.  
  
Woah, Gin! Since when do Fred and George attend your routine interrogations? Isn't that a little unfair?  
  
Ignoring the voice in my head that was prodding me to tell the twins to leave, and looked around at each face.  
  
"Draco," I said after a moment, shrugging my shoulders.  
  
Ow, Giiiiinnnnnnn! Don't DO that! It hurts!  
  
"Draco? So it's DRACO now is it? Since when do you call him by his first name?" Fred asked, looking really quite furious.  
  
"Since last night," I retorted.  
  
"And what happened last night? Oh, wait, never mind. You were too pissed to remember!" This was George, his fury matching his brother's.  
  
"I could tell you some of it, but I don't think you'd want to know the details once we got to his house," I snapped, and stood from my chair, having had quite enough.  
  
All four of them looked quite taken aback, and I wobbled over to the foot of the stairs.  
  
"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed. I have a killer headache, not to mention some serious pain in other areas, and would much rather sleep it all off than have to listen to you lecture me. Good night."  
  
All in all, I was pretty pleased with myself for telling them off; they didn't even follow me up the stairs. When I finally reached my room, I removed my robe, and collapsed on the bed, face buried in my pillow. Soon enough, I was sound asleep, sprawled across my single bed with very little dignity.  
  
It was about three hours later when I awoke again, and at first I wondered why I was awake – I'd been sleeping quite peacefully. Raising my head off the pillow, I was quite suddenly aware of a prickling feeling on the back of my neck – you know the one when you feel like you're being watched? I glanced side to side around the room, before dropping my head back to the pillow, sure it had been a hallucination, and I was just paranoid.  
  
But then, to my utter dismay, I heard footsteps coming closer to my bed. I sat up quickly, and turned around so I was facing the hallway – which I would, under normal circumstances, have been able to see through my open door. But at the moment, there was someone standing in front of my bed.  
  
Vivid green eyes looked down at me, with an expression akin to disappointment, and I glared back up at him.  
  
"Have a good time last night?" He asked.  
  
Damn it, Gin, why do they all ask that? 'Cause they're idiots and want to know about my life, since they don't have lives of their own?  
  
Ignoring the debate going on between my intelligent side and my flippant side, I continued to glare up at the Boy Who Lived.  
  
"Yes, I had a wonderful time, not that it's any business of yours. Now go away, I'm trying to sleep."  
  
"You know your family – not to mention Hermione and I – were pretty freaked out when you didn't come home last night," Harry said conversationally, ignoring my order for solitude.  
  
"So?"  
  
"What d'you mean, 'so'?" He was aghast.  
  
"I mean... So what if they were freaked out? So what if you were freaked out? I don't care, Potter. I've been babied all my life. They never let me do anything, unless Ron or someone comes with me. This summer, I try to have a little fun, and they wig out. Now bugger off, I want to sleep."  
  
I imagine, from the point of view of a fly on the wall, the situation would be pretty humorous. Ginny Weasley, in nothing more than her underwear, telling off the famous Harry Potter – whom she'd had a crush on since, well, she first heard of him. But for me, the situation was anything but funny: I just wanted to sleep. And as to my crush on Harry, well, it was pretty much nonexistent.  
  
"So you're trying to tell me that you don't care that you had your entire family in a blind panic when you didn't come home?"  
  
"Did you not understand what I just said?"  
  
"I understood the words, I just don't understand the reasoning behind them."  
  
"And you never will. Now sod off." I turned away and flopped back down on the bed, burying my face once more in the pillow.  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
"FUCK OFF, POTTER!" I screeched into the feather pillow.  
  
"So it's Potter now, is it? Been spending a lot of time with Malfoy, have you?" He asked scathingly.  
  
I rolled over, exasperated and quite pissed off. Did he not LISTEN?  
  
"Yes, it's Potter. You know why? Because I'm pissed off. When I'm pissed off, I either call people by their surnames, or their full names. And no, I haven't been spending a lot of time with Draco. I saw him last night at the club, we had a few drinks, made out a bit, and he took me back to his place. We had some great sex, and then he brought me home. Happy?"  
  
He gulped and left the room without another word. Apparently the idea of his best friend's sister having a sex life at the age of 16 was a disturbing thought. If he was frightened at that thought of me shagging at 16, I wonder what he'd think if I told him I'd been deflowered at 15?  
  
Grumbling, I got off the bed and pulled my robe on once again. He had disrupted my sleep, and then made me angry; there was no way I'd be able to fall back into oblivion. I slipped my feet into a pair of slippers, and left my room.  
  
I had just reached the stairs, when I heard voices drifting up the stairwell towards me. Curious, seeing as how I heard my name, I stopped and listened.  
  
"D'you know what she just told me?" That was Harry's voice, sounding quite furious.  
  
"Harry, calm down! She'll hear you!" Hermione, always trying to keep things calm.  
  
"What'd she tell you? Did it have something to do with Malfoy? I'll skin him alive, if he hurt her! I'll skin him alive anyway!" Ronald. Always irrational.  
  
"She told me she had sex. With Malfoy."  
  
"The git! I'll kill him! He probably raped her! Or else he got her so drunk that she didn't know what she was doing, which qualifies as rape, doesn't it? If she wasn't in her right mind when it happened?" Ron sounded like he was hyperventilating.  
  
Having had quite enough, I padded down the stairs and into the living room, where the three of them were standing. Hermione was busy trying to calm Ron, and Harry was staring out the window, clenching his fists.  
  
They all looked up when they saw me, and at least Hermione had the decency to blush in embarrassment.  
  
"First of all, Ronald, he did not rape me, and I was quite in my right mind when I started to strip off his clothes. Secondly, if you wish to talk about me, I suggest you do it somewhere where I won't be likely to hear you. And, thirdly, I don't recall ever telling you that it was any of your business. The only reason I told Potter anything was because he was being an ass and wouldn't leave me alone. Now, any questions about last night, or are you quite satisfied?"  
  
At my words, I was pleased to see, Hermione blushed a deeper shade of red, and both Harry's and Ron's faces drained of all color. I smirked, and turned on my heel, mounting the stairs quickly. Figuring that, if I wanted to be able to make it to the Hogwarts Express tomorrow – because I was pretty sure my parents were seriously considering not letting me go back to Hogwarts – I'd better cool off.  
  
And, what better way to cool off than to go for a swim? Headache having dissipated to a tolerable level, I set about trying to find the swimsuit I had purchased last month. Rummaging around in my closet, I finally found the two piece suit, and promptly scurried across the hall to get changed.  
  
I washed my face, quite tired of looking as though I had two black eyes, and, once changed into my swimsuit, I padded back to my bedroom. Intent on not letting anyone see me – since I was pretty certain they would insist on accompanying me, for fear I might be off to shag Draco again – I grabbed a towel, chucked it outside, climbed out my window and dropped barefoot to the grass below.  
  
Thankfully, the sunlight didn't burn my eyes or make my skull feel like it was splitting in two any more, and I was able to walk without feeling as though I was going to retch. Big step up from earlier.  
  
Picking up the fluffy pink towel, I walked quickly away from the side of the house, and had about made it out of the yard, and was thinking my prospects were pretty good, when I felt that prickle on the back of my neck again.  
  
"GINNY! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?"  
  
Damn it, Ronald, can you not tell? I'm in a bathing suit, carrying a towel, and sneaking away from the house. IS IT NOT OBVIOUS???  
  
Rather than answering, I pretended not to hear, and continued on my way. I didn't want to talk to him. Or his wretched little friends who seemed to think that my life was their business.  
  
"GINNY!"  
  
I raised the hand not carrying my towel, and flipped him off as I continued across the yard. It really was no business of his where I went.  
  
Reaching the brick wall that surrounded the yard, I clambered over it, and cut across the vacant field behind our house. Some five minutes later, I had reached the small lake that lay in the center of the field, and was quite surprised at my luck: they hadn't followed.  
  
Dropping the towel to the grass, I waded into the chill water, and was immediately covered in goose bumps. When I had waded out up to the middle of my torso, I took the customary deep breath, and was about to dive beneath the surface when, once again:  
  
"GINNY!"  
  
Letting out my breath in a whoosh, I turned to face my brother and his friends who were standing on the lakeshore.  
  
Damn it, Gin-gin, how did they sneak up on you? You're supposed to be good at being able to tell when people are following you!  
  
"GINNY, GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" Ron commanded, pointing furiously at the ground.  
  
"No." Honestly, he didn't have to shout – I wasn't that far away. And I was hardly going to go near him and his friends. They'd make me go back to the Burrow.  
  
And with that, I turned away from my brother and his entourage once more, and dove beneath the icy surface of the water. My eyes closed instinctively as I was engulfed in the cool liquid, but I opened them when I felt something graze my knee.  
  
Just a rock, I realized, looking behind me at the inconspicuous boulder that had scratched my left knee. I continued my underwater explorations for a while, but was soon in desperate need of air and forced to surface.  
  
What I saw, once I pushed the hair from my eyes and turned back towards the shore where I had last seen my brother, was an astounding sight, and one that proved Hermione's theory that Harry had a "saving-people thing."  
  
He had kicked off his shoes and socks, stuffed his glasses in his shoe, and was pulling off his shirt. Before I could say anything, he dove into the water, swimming out a ways before diving beneath the calm blue surface. Hermione, ever the peacekeeper, was busy calming Ron, who was hyperventilating again.  
  
I treaded water, waiting for my supposed 'hero' to resurface, and was quite startled when he popped out of the water right beside me.  
  
"DAMN IT, POTTER!" I screeched, as I was splashed with the water that had been pushed aside when he surfaced.  
  
"Ginny?" He asked stupidly, rubbing his eyes free of water.  
  
"Yes, I'm Ginny, genius."  
  
"You're all right! But we thought-"  
  
"Yes, well, shows how much you know, Potter," I retorted, and started to swim away.  
  
"Oh no you don't! You're going back to the Burrow. Your mum wants to talk to you," he said, grabbing me around the waist and preventing me from leaving.  
  
I whirled at the feeling of his hand around my bare waist.  
  
Gin, there are other ways to get away, you know. You don't have to stay above the surface.  
  
Listening, for the umpteenth time, to the more logical part of my mind, I took a deep breath and dove beneath the water. Before he had time to respond, I had slipped out of his grasp, and was gliding away, diving deeper as I went.  
  
Sadly, I was once again forced to surface for air, and kicked my way to the surface. And, wouldn't you know it, there he was, waiting for me.  
  
"Fuck off, Potter," I growled, as he wrapped his arm around my waist once more, tighter this time so I knew I wouldn't be able to dive away again. He didn't respond, and proceeded to swim towards the shore, dragging me along with him.  
  
"HARRY JAMES POTTER YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!" I shrieked, struggling to get away. I debated biting his arm, but didn't think that would do much good.  
  
We reached the shore a few seconds later, and there were Ron and Hermione, pulling both Harry and I out of the icy lake. Once both of us had been dried off, thanks to a spell from Hermione's wand, and they had fussed over me, making sure I was all right – apparently they thought I had been trying to drown myself – I prepared myself for the lecture.  
  
Ron looked like he was trying to find the words, and I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Ronald, I was not trying to drown myself, in case you got the wrong impression. Nor did I need to be rescued – I am quite good at swimming, thank you. And, for your information, I was swimming in order to cool off before I have to face mum and dad again, since I have every intention of returning to Hogwarts this term and they don't seem to want me to go back. Now, thanks to you three, I'll have to find another way to cool off."  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
"Bugger off, Hermione. I don't want to hear it."  
  
And with that, I turned and marched myself back towards the Burrow, wrapped snuggly in my fluffy pink towel. 


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
They followed me, as I knew they would, and had caught me up even before I had reached the stone wall at the back of our yard.  
  
"Gin, you have some serious problems," Ron remarked conversationally, falling into step beside me.  
  
I didn't bother to look at him, and continued on as though I hadn't heard him.  
  
"Ron's right, Ginny, you're being a real bitch," Harry commented.  
  
"D'you have something you want to tell us, Ginny? Because I've heard that when someone is raped, they don't want to say, because they're scared that the rapist will-"  
  
"Hermione, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. Get it through your head: I. Was. Not. Raped. It was all quite legal and consensual. Harry, I don't give a shit if I'm being a bitch. I'll be a fucking bitch if I want to. Oh, and Ronald, if I have problems, then you most certainly have got some serious issues of your own."  
  
We had reached the wall by now, and I climbed over, casting a furious glare at the Golden Trio before turning and walking into my house. I was greeted by my mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table, looking quite grim.  
  
"Ginny, we need to talk."  
  
"More talking?"  
  
"More talking. Sit." She gestured to the same chair I had occupied earlier, and I obediently lowered myself into it.  
  
Ron, Hermione and Harry entered just then, and my mother shot them a warning glance when they stopped on their way upstairs, looking at the two of us inquisitively. Shrugging, my brother led his friends upstairs, leaving my mother and I alone once again.  
  
"What did you want to talk about, mum?" I figured I'd better be polite, since I had a feeling I knew where this was going.  
  
"Your father and I have been talking, and we have a bit of a problem with you going back to Hogwarts this term." She said it all with the tone of one commenting on the weather, and I gaped.  
  
Though I had known it was coming, I still couldn't believe it.  
  
"What d'you mean?! Mum! I have to go back! I'm a prefect! I'm on the Quidditch team! I have NEWT level courses! I have to go back!"  
  
"Ginny, we know, but the way you've been acting all summer, we think you would be better off going to a school that has stricter policies in regards to some of your... endeavors."  
  
"Mum! That was in the summer! When I'm back at school, things'll be different! I mean, I'm a prefect! I can't go around breaking the rules and stuff!"  
  
"Be that as it may, Ginny, we can't have you pulling stunts like the one you pulled last night."  
  
"So it's because I was with Draco, then, is it?"  
  
"Not entirely, no..."  
  
"But because I spent one night with Draco Malfoy, you're afraid to send me back to school?"  
  
"We aren't afraid, Ginny..."  
  
"You think I'm going to go off and have a sordid affair with a Death Eater's son?"  
  
"Well, no, but..."  
  
"It was a one time thing, mum! We just wanted to have some fun."  
  
"Ginny, that's not the point, the point is, you've lost our trust. And as much as we would like to be able to trust your brother and his friends to watch out for you while you're at school, we can't have him following you around all the time, and he certainly can't be in your dormitory with you. He has to be able to-"  
  
"So I can't go back to Hogwarts because you think I'm going to go sneaking around and getting drunk all the time? Mum, come on. It's not like I have any way of getting alcohol, and there are measures you can put in place to insure that I don't go wandering. But bloody hell, mum, I don't need a keeper. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."  
  
"You've certainly shown us that this summer," she remarked sarcastically, raising her brows.  
  
"Do you want to know why I've been doing what I've been doing all summer?"  
  
"If you would be so kind as to inform me."  
  
"Because I don't have any freedom. All my life, it's been "Ron, please go with her so that she doesn't get in trouble." "Fred, George, look after Ginny, would you?" "Boys, I want you to make sure Ginny doesn't get into trouble at school this term." I can't stand it, mum! I never get to do anything on my own. There's always at least one of my brothers standing around, watching. I haven't gotten the chance to be hurt, or have my heart broken, like the other girls my age, because no boy has ever had the nerve to hurt me; they're all afraid they'll get the shit beaten out of them. I've never had the chance to try to do things on my own, because I've always had someone there to tell me how to do something, or to do it for me. And this summer, well, I've just had enough. I can't take it any more."  
  
"Ginny, I, well, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'll go unpack my stuff."  
  
"Whatever are you talking about, dear?"  
  
"Well, I'm not going back to Hogwarts. And until you find somewhere else to send me, I shouldn't need my school things all packed up. At least I'll be able to read my text books."  
  
"Oh, Ginny! I didn't know that was how you felt! Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"I didn't want to hurt you, or make you think I didn't like the attention. Because I do, I like the attention, I would just appreciate it more if it were in a different form."  
  
She was nearly crying now, and I applauded myself inwardly for my acting skills; I had always been so convincing. Of course, some of what I had said was true, but mostly, I just wanted to go back to Hogwarts, no matter what it took.  
  
"Oh, dear, I feel so awful now! You should have said something, Ginny!"  
  
"It's okay, mum, don't worry about it."  
  
We were both standing now, and she pulled me into a hug. It was quite funny, really, because I had always been shorter than my mother, always, but at that moment I realized that I must have grown quite a bit, seeing as how I could look over her head.  
  
She released me, and, sniffling, she sighed.  
  
"Don't worry about unpacking your things, dear. You'll be on that train tomorrow, but you have to promise me one thing."  
  
"What's that, mum?"  
  
"That you'll behave yourself while you're at school."  
  
"I always do, mum. Don't worry. I promise."  
  
She nodded, and I figured I should leave and let her cry in peace. I mounted the stairs quickly and silently, and rounded the corner to see a gaping Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all perched on the steps.  
  
My ire rose quickly, and, apparently afraid of getting another tongue lashing, they scrambled away. It amused me, really, that the three of them – all older than me, both boys bigger than me, Hermione and I being about the same height – were afraid of me. Harry, however, shot me a strange look as they rounded the corner.  
  
Smirking, I paid his expression no mind, finished climbing the stairs to my room, and went inside, careful to close the door even if I couldn't lock it – the handle didn't have a lock, and I couldn't use magic, still being underage as I was. Restless, I left the room a minute later, and crossed the hall to the bathroom to have a shower.  
  
As I stood under the beating water, letting the scalding heat turn my flesh pink, I sighed in relief: I was going back to Hogwarts. Sure, it had taken some serious acting on my part, but mum would never see past it; I was her baby, she would believe me in anything.  
  
I turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. Hair dripping into the terry cloth, I left the bathroom, not particularly caring about the small wet footprints I was leaving on the carpet.  
  
Holding the towel around me with one hand, I pushed open the door to my room, and had just stepped inside when those bloody prickles on the back of my neck came back. I turned, having some inkling of who it was, and wasn't surprised to be staring up into a pair of bright green eyes.  
  
"That was some pretty good acting, Ginny," Harry commented, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"And your point is?"  
  
I turned away from him, intent on getting into my room and putting some clothes on, but he followed. Feeling his hand on my bare shoulder, I whirled, fully intending to tell him off. But he released me, and stepped back, giving me space. I was suspicious at once – more so when I realized he had closed the door, and was leaning against it.  
  
"Out. Now." I gestured towards the hallway hidden behind the door, and he smirked. There was an odd gleam to his eyes, I noticed.  
  
"Why would I want to leave, Ginny?"  
  
"Because I told you to."  
  
"I'm not inclined to listen to someone who has routinely been telling me to fuck off all summer, Ginny."  
  
He took a step forward, and I unconsciously took one backwards, causing a wicked laugh to part his lips.  
  
"What do you want, Harry?" I asked, stopping my retreat, though he kept moving toward me.  
  
"You."  
  
Woah, hold up Gin! Did he just say that? Did he? Yes, he did, and I don't like it. Nor do I like the look in his eyes. But you had to know, Ginny, that this was bound to happen; the boy was practically stalking you all summer. And he was pretty upset about the whole sex-with-Draco thing. Well, everyone was upset about the whole sex-with-Draco thing, so that's not a big deal. And it was him – not your brother – who 'rescued' you from the lake. Well, I suppose, but Ron was hyperventilating. Still...  
  
The inner discussion taking place distracted me from my current predicament, as I waited for my mind to inform me of the best course of action, or for Harry to do something. I blinked, surprised, when I felt Harry's lips on mine.  
  
He kissed me softly, lightly, innocently. But I couldn't have been more furious. Reaching up with the hand not clutching the towel around my body, I pushed the Boy Who Lived as hard as I possibly could in the chest. He stumbled back, green eyes blazing, but didn't advance on me again.  
  
"Out, Potter. Now."  
  
"No."  
  
"You little fucker! Get out!" I hissed, as he approached again.  
  
"I've already told you; no."  
  
"Why?" I figured I'd try another tactic; confuse him, distract him.  
  
"Why what?" He stopped in his tracks.  
  
"Why do you want me?"  
  
"Because you're beautiful... you're amazing... perfect..."  
  
"So it's because of the way I look? I never thought you were a shallow bastard, Potter, but apparently I was wrong."  
  
"Because a git like Malfoy doesn't deserve you..." he had continued as though I hadn't spoken.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You deserve someone who will worship you, give you everything you want..."  
  
"Potter, you're talking like Draco and I went out and eloped. It was nothing more than casual sex. Get over it, and get out."  
  
"Casual sex?" He didn't seem to understand the term.  
  
"Yes, casual sex. As in, no ties, just some fun between the sheets, forget about it after."  
  
"Oh." He seemed to come to his senses, as though he had been in a trance or something. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Now would you please be so kind as to leave?"  
  
"Sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry."  
  
With the last apology hanging between us, he backed out of my room and closed the door behind him when he was in the hallway. I rolled my eyes again when he was gone; it seemed as though the Boy Who Lived was finally snapping.  
  
Dropping the towel on the floor, I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a tank top, and slipped a pair of flip-flops on my bare feet before leaving my room. I grabbed my purse on my way out, and wandered down the hall to the stairs. Going down the stairs quickly, I emerged in the kitchen, where mum was sitting at the table, apparently writing a letter.  
  
"What'cha writing mum?"  
  
"A letter to Dumbledore," she replied absently, intent on her work.  
  
"What about?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"You." She looked up, then, and caught sight of my purse.  
  
"Where are you going, Ginny?" She asked, suspicious.  
  
"Diagon Alley. I was rechecking my potions stuff, and I need more powdered ginger root." It wasn't entirely a lie; you can never have too much powdered ginger root.  
  
"Well dear, have a good time. And while you're there, can you pick up some more floo powder? We're nearly out." She seemed quite relieved that I wasn't venturing out into the muggle world, but was off to somewhere that she felt comfortable with.  
  
"'Kay mum. I'll see you later."  
  
I turned away, walking into the living room where the fireplace was situated. I grabbed a handful of floo powder, thew it into the fireplace, and spat, around a mouthful of ash, my destination.  
  
I was engulfed in fluorescent green flames, and a moment later, was shot out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. One of the witches sitting at the table beside the fireplace helped me up, and I thanked her profusely, dusting off my blue jeans – I had been wise enough to wear a black tank top, so the soot wouldn't show.  
  
Thanking the witch again, I left the noisy confines of the pub for the more sedated atmosphere of the small yard behind, and tapped the brick wall with my wand. Moments later, I was ensconced in the bustling and jovial crowd of Diagon Alley.  
  
A/N: My eternal thanks to all my lovely reviewers, whom I love. I would thank you all personally, but I'm too bloody lazy. You all know who you are. 


	5. Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
I made two stops straight away; one at Magical Transportation and Tours, to pick up mum's floo powder, and the other at a basic potion supply store for my powdered ginger root. After leaving the second shop, both of my small bags clasped firmly in my left hand, I wandered fairly aimlessly for a while, bored.  
  
The heat finally getting to me, I sauntered over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, ordered myself an ice cream sundae, and dropped into a seat at a corner table outside. It occurred to me, as I ate my ice cream, that there were a bloody lot of people trying to control my life.  
  
Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Mum, Dad, and not to mention all the teachers at Hogwarts who are always breathing down my neck, always seem to have some sort of control over what I do. I frowned, and chewed on my ice cream spoon, pondering what to do about the disgraceful situation.  
  
And that brought me to another thing: Potter. He was such a... prick. He'd never shown any interest in me before, when I actually liked him, but as soon as he found out that people he didn't approve of showed an interest in me – even if it was only casual sex – he was all over me. It was quite disgusting, really.  
  
Speak of the Devil, Gin! The Golden Trio is here, in all of their heroic, take-care-of-Ron's-little-sister glory.  
  
I saw them out of the corner of my eye, conspicuous in their attempt to be inconspicuous. They were all watching me, and when I looked up, all three looked away; they were leaning against one of the walls of the shops, chatting a little too animatedly for the ploy to be plausible.  
  
My eyes rolled, and I was just about to get up and tell them off when I felt those goddamn prickles at the back of my neck.  
  
"Hello, Virginia," he breathed in my ear, causing me to jump nearly six inches off my seat.  
  
He chuckled softly, and sat down in the seat across from me, his back to the street. Mercury colored eyes glittered in amusement as my breathing slowed gradually back to its normal rate.  
  
"Don't DO that!" I said, when I was able to speak. He really was insufferably evil.  
  
"Don't do what, Virginia?" He asked innocently, patented smirk playing on his lips.  
  
I rolled my eyes and didn't reply.  
  
GIN! BETTER DO SOMETHING! QUICK! THEY'RE COMING! THEY'VE SEEN HIM! AND THEY NOTICED THAT, UNLIKE MOST, YOU HAVEN'T HEXED HIM TO BITS!  
  
"Oh, shit," I muttered, gaze traveling over his shoulder in the direction of my brother and his friends, who were approaching quickly, pushing their way across the crowded street, wands at the ready.  
  
"Problem?" He inquired lazily, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"Yes, problem."  
  
"Anything I can help with?"  
  
"You could get your arse out of here."  
  
"Virginia! You wound me!"  
  
"Well, it's either that, or they'll curse you into oblivion."  
  
"Who will?"  
  
"The Golden Trio."  
  
He chuckled again, and rose languorously from his seat, turning towards the street just as my three 'protectors' reached us.  
  
"Get away from her, Malfoy," Harry snarled, pointing his wand at the blonde boy.  
  
"Why would I want to do that, Potter?" Draco asked boredly, pulling out his own wand and twirling it between his fingers.  
  
I rose from my chair, seething; it was no business of theirs what I did, or whom I associated with, but here they were, ruining a very pleasant conversation with their deluded ideas that I was incapable of taking care of myself.  
  
GIN! This could be the answer you were looking for! Go out with Draco! That'd infuriate everyone to no end, and you'd have plenty of fun, not to mention the fact that they wouldn't be able to do anything to him, since he's Head Boy and all.  
  
Pouting, I stood beside Draco, my arms folded over my chest.  
  
"Ronald, may I please remind you that my life is none of your business? Now be a dear and fuck off; Draco and I were having a very pleasant conversation before you showed up."  
  
All of them – including Draco – looked quite taken aback at my words. I could see how Draco would be surprised, but the others had heard the same refrain all summer; it shouldn't have been much of a shock to them.  
  
"Ginny! We aren't leaving you here with this... this..." Ron didn't seem able to find words to describe Draco.  
  
"Please, Ronald. I am quite capable of taking care of myself," I snapped, glaring at my older brother.  
  
"Yeah, you certainly showed us that last night," Harry retorted acidly, still pointing his wand at Draco.  
  
"I don't recall asking your opinion, Potter. And kindly lower your wand; Draco hasn't done anything."  
  
"Of course he's done something; he exists, doesn't he?" Harry responded, glaring in my direction.  
  
I slapped him. What else was I supposed to do? Let the remark slide? So I walked right up to him, and slapped him around the face. His head snapped round with the force of my blow, and I was pleased to see a handprint on his cheek.  
  
Temporarily distracted by their friend's plight, Hermione and Ron turned away from Draco and I. I grabbed Draco's hand, having had enough of my insufferable brother and his entourage for one lifetime, and dragged him away from the ice cream parlor.  
  
"I'm quite surprised at you, Virginia," Draco remarked, as I pulled him into a side alley in hopes of hiding from my now furious brother – not to mention a Harry Potter whose ego was just seriously injured, and Hermione who was quite appalled.  
  
"Why're you surprised," I asked, turning from my surveillance of the street beyond our hiding place to look at him.  
  
"You hit Potter." He said it simply, as though it were quite obvious.  
  
"So?"  
  
"I thought you had a bit of an infatuation with the boy."  
  
"No."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"May I inquire as to why? Most of the female population at Hogwarts worships the moron. Why don't you?" He seemed quite curious, and I sighed.  
  
"I used to like him, and I used to be a pathetic fangirl. But now I dunno. Things change. I changed. I don't particularly like him at all any more."  
  
"Intriguing."  
  
I scoffed.  
  
"Hardly. He's trying to control my life, just like the rest of them. You know, he actually came on to me today?" I glanced up at him, as I said it, wondering what his reaction would be.  
  
A mixture of expressions crossed his face, though before I could try to decipher any of them, his visage had returned to its customary blank façade.  
  
"I can see why," he said after a moment.  
  
"You can?!"  
  
"Well of course, my dear. You are beautiful, and you don't worship the ground he walks on. You could care less if he pledged his undying love to you right now, and he knows it. You are associating with the enemy, and it frightens him; he wants to bring you back to him, if you follow me."  
  
"I follow, but I don't understand."  
  
"He wants what he cannot get."  
  
"Oh. Well. I certainly wish he'd take his affections elsewhere, but I don't know how to get him to go away. He won't leave me the hell alone."  
  
"It's the oldest story in the book, darling."  
  
"Stupid, stupid, stupid, that's what it is."  
  
"You've got it in a nutshell."  
  
"This year at school's going to be hell," I muttered, massaging my temples.  
  
"You think it'll be bad for you? I'm Head Boy. Granger's Head Girl. I have to work with the Mudblood."  
  
"At least you don't have some insufferable prick lusting after you," I pouted.  
  
He considered it.  
  
"True," he conceded. I giggled.  
  
"Draco..."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I've an idea."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"Well... what if you and I got together?"  
  
"Are you asking me out, Virginia?" He was amused.  
  
"No! See, if you and I got together, it would piss off everyone we know, correct?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"So it would be fun for you, since it would piss off Potter and his little gang, correct?"  
  
"Correct." He was considering it.  
  
"And it would be good for me, since Potter wouldn't be able to do anything about it, 'cause you're Head Boy."  
  
"True enough."  
  
"And, since I'm a prefect and you're Head Boy, if anyone tries to do anything about it, well, they could get detention or something."  
  
"It's a good scheme, my dear, but there's only one flaw."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"If my parents found out, I'd be shipped off to Durmstrang. If your parents found out, I imagine you would be in a shitload of trouble."  
  
"I've thought about that. If your father finds out – which it would probably be better if you just straight up told him – you can tell him that you're only seeing me in order to get closer to Potter, to try and find out information, or whatever. And as for me, well, my mum will let me do anything once I get to school, 'cause I'm a great actress."  
  
He raised a brow, and I could see he was impressed.  
  
"Very well, Virginia. Your little plot sounds to me as though it would benefit the both of us."  
  
I beamed.  
  
"But I wonder," he drawled, tracing one finger along my jaw line, "if perhaps you aren't trying to find a way to repeat last night?"  
  
I shivered, as his hand cupped my chin.  
  
"Well, if you want to repeat last night, I'd be more than happy to oblige," I replied, smirking.  
  
"Would you now?"  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"It could be a benefit of my plot."  
  
His eyes glittered like falling stars, and his smirk mirrored my own. Before I could say anything more, he pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss. He pulled away just as quickly, releasing my chin in the process.  
  
"I'll see you on the train tomorrow, my dear," he said, and made to leave.  
  
"Hold up! Is this farce going to take place, or not? 'Cause I need to know how to act tomorrow, you know."  
  
"Just follow my lead tomorrow, and everything will be fine, darling."  
  
And with that, he disapparated, leaving me alone in the alley. I shook my head in puzzlement, and left the side street, pondering his words. I was pretty sure that his response had been an agreement, or he wouldn't have said what he did. Shrugging, I wandered down the main street towards the Leaky Cauldron, more than ready to go home. It was nearly dinnertime, after all, and I hadn't eaten anything more than an ice cream sundae all day.  
  
I was nearly there when my brother fell into step on my left, Harry on my right, Hermione beside Harry. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Have a nice time with Malfoy?" Ron asked coldly.  
  
"Quite, thank you."  
  
"You know Ginny, I'm surprised at you."  
  
"Why's that Potter?"  
  
"'Cause you hit me."  
  
I laughed. I couldn't believe his arrogance!  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's been a long time since I've been hit."  
  
"And your point is?"  
  
"His point is, Ginny, that it was wrong what you did. You should apologize," Hermione said reproachfully.  
  
"What I did was wrong? I was simply defending my friend. Now, Potter, on the other hand, was insulting someone for no reason. I'm pretty sure he's the one who should be apologizing."  
  
We had reached the Leaky Cauldron by now, and I had no doubt that they were going to watch me floo home, for fear I was off to Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Ginny, I thought you told me that you just had casual sex with Malfoy. No ties, and forget about it afterwards."  
  
"Well, Potter, I don't generally have sex with someone and then pretend like I don't even know them. Usually, we do remain friends. It's sort of a common courtesy," I explained coldly. Ron winced at my words. No doubt the thought of his baby sister not being a virgin was terrifying.  
  
"Are you trying to tell us that Malfoy w-wasn't your first?" Ron's face drained of all color as he said it.  
  
Right on, Gin! You've scared your brother! Good work. Maybe now he'll leave you alone. FAT CHANCE!  
  
"Yes, Ronald. I actually thought it was pretty obvious." I took a handful of floo powder, threw it into the fire, and disappeared in a whirl of bright green flames. 


	6. Six

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything anyway. I'm broke.  
  
I shot out of the fireplace at the Burrow with very little grace, coughing and choking on ash and soot. Floo powder had never been my favorite way to travel, and as I scrambled to my feet, I loathed it even more; my pants were ruined.  
  
Three popping noises, all directly in front of me, brought me from my examination of the state of my clothing, and I looked up at the Golden Trio. All three were angry – livid, more like – and all three seemed to have no intentions of letting me leave the living room.  
  
Glaring at the people I had once considered friends, I dropped unceremoniously into one of the wooden chairs that dotted the living room. The trio of seventeen-year-olds stared at me, as though so furious they didn't know what to say.  
  
I rolled my eyes.  
  
"If you have some petty lecture to give me, I ask you to do so now, and make it quick. I have to finish packing my things, and I believe mum's going to want help with dinner."  
  
Ron folded his arms, and stood stock still, not sure what to say. Hermione did the same, though she looked like she had a lot to say but wasn't willing to say it. Harry started to pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists.  
  
"You have nothing to say? Works for me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find mum so she can try and get the soot out of these jeans." I rose from my chair, only to be pushed back down by Wonder Boy himself.  
  
"You aren't going anywhere, Ginny," Ron snarled.  
  
I sighed. It had been worth a try.  
  
"Ginny, we're worried about you. All of us. Is there something going on that you'd like to tell us about? Because we're here to help, you know."  
  
"Listen, Hermione. I don't need help. If I needed help, I would ask for it. I don't have any problems, other than the fact that I can't control my own life. I don't have anything to tell you, because there is nothing in my life that concerns you. Any of you. Any other questions, or are we through here?" I said it all calmly, and was quite pleased with myself; I was being decent.  
  
"Ginny. You seriously need help. Are you not capable of having a fucking civilized conversation?"  
  
"Excuse me, Mister Potter, but I believe you are the one uttering profanities, not me. I also believe that I have stated my position quite clearly and calmly, and if you mistake my words for being uncivilized, well, that's your problem. I cannot be blamed for your misconceptions. Now. Is there anything else you wish to say to me, or may I be excused?"  
  
Ron pointed to the door, and I stood, leaving the three to discuss me and my 'problems' in private. I had just rounded the corner towards the kitchen, when I heard Harry's voice carrying down the hall:  
  
"She is so fucking fucked up!"  
  
I wasn't surprised that my brother didn't defend me:  
  
"I know mate, I know. But she'll come around, just wait. It's just a phase, that's what mum's been saying all summer."  
  
Shaking my head in disbelief at their idiocy, I wandered into the kitchen, where my mother was preparing dinner.  
  
"Can I help, mum?"  
  
"Yes of course, dear! If I could get you to set the tables outside, it would be one less thing for me to do."  
  
"Outside?"  
  
"Yes, dear, outside. It's such a lovely evening, and this is the last day of the summer holidays, so I thought we should take advantage of the weather, and eat outside."  
  
"Okay, mum."  
  
I grabbed the dishes, and carted them outside, where the long wooden tables had already been set up and covered in tablecloths. After setting each place with plates and dishes, I wandered back inside, to where my mother was putting the finishing touches on a roast turkey.  
  
"Looks delicious, mum," I murmured, inhaling the tantalizing aroma.  
  
"Why thank you, dear. But, Ginny, what have you got all over your pants?" She pointed at my blue jeans, which were still covered in soot.  
  
"Oh. Soot. Traveling by floo powder..."  
  
She pulled out her wand, and pointed it at my dust-covered pants, removing the ash with a flick of her wrist.  
  
"There you go, dear. Good as new."  
  
"Thanks, mum."  
  
It was quite amazing; my mother and I had just had a decent conversation. We hadn't had one of those all summer.  
  
A shrill beeping sound emanated from the oven, and my mother turned away to check on whatever was inside, before turning back to me.  
  
"Ginny dear, would you please go find your brother and his friends? Dinner's ready, and I don't want it to get cold."  
  
"Sure mum."  
  
Turning on my heel, I wandered down the hall to where I had last seen my brother and his friends, and wasn't surprised to find that they were still in the living room. Hermione and Ron were seated on the couch, while Harry was still pacing.  
  
"You know, Ron, I just don't get it. She used to be so..." Harry's voice trailed off, and I stopped in the doorway to listen – they didn't notice me, so I took advantage of their ignorance.  
  
"Normal?" Ron supplied, watching his friend pace.  
  
"Well, yea. I mean, she couldn't be totally normal, not after being possessed by Voldemort, but she was pretty normal for having gone through something like that."  
  
"I know mate, I know."  
  
"I'm surprised at you two! Ginny is obviously in some sort of trouble, and all you care about is the fact that she's not following you around like a lost puppy like she used to!"  
  
Well, Gin, at least Hermione is sort of defending you. Well, yea, but she's still on about me being in trouble. Oh! Wait! She's talking again.  
  
"I've read about stuff like this, and I've heard about it in the news. Say Malfoy did rape her. He probably threatened her, or something, and told her that if she told anyone he'd hurt her again. And, because of the stigma surrounding rape, she's probably too scared to tell anyone anyway."  
  
"The fucking bastard! I'll kill him!"  
  
"No, Harry. You can't."  
  
"But 'Mione!"  
  
"Think about it. Ginny's in trouble, and if Malfoy is the root of it, what good would it do to do anything to him?"  
  
"It'd fix everything!"  
  
"No, Ron, it wouldn't. He's probably threatened her, and if you two go making trouble with him, being more horrible to him than you usually are, he could seriously hurt her. We've got to think of Ginny, not just the fact that Malfoy is involved."  
  
Unconsciously, a smirk crossed my lips, as I listened to Hermione try to make my brother and Harry see reason. It truly amused me that they still thought I was in some sort of trouble with Draco.  
  
Well, Gin-gin, they're really quite obsessive about seeing problems where there aren't any, you know. It shouldn't be a surprise.  
  
With that through swirling through my laughing brain, I looked from Harry, who had his back to the room and was looking out the window, to Ron, who had his head in his hands, and to Hermione, who was watching Harry. All were still oblivious to my presence.  
  
"Dinner's ready," I said from my place in the doorway, and all three heads snapped up and turned in my direction. I watched in sadistic amusement as each face registered shock, anger, embarrassment, fear, and anger again in rapid succession.  
  
"How long've you been standing there, Ginny?" Ron asked, gulping.  
  
"Not long. But I thought I told you that if you wanted to talk about me, you should do it somewhere that I'm not likely to hear you. It would save you a lot of wasted emotion, you know."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Well, if you were to talk about me where I wouldn't hear, you wouldn't worry about me overhearing, you wouldn't be afraid of me walking in on you, and, as I've done just now, when you do find me listening, you won't be afraid, angry, shocked, or embarrassed. A lot of saved emotion."  
  
All three walked towards me, slowly, cautiously, Harry eyeing me up and down, as he would an enemy.  
  
"What did you hear, Ginny?" He asked, coming to stand in front of me.  
  
Not moving from my position of leaning against the doorframe, I smirked up at Wonder Boy, and raised a brow, quite enjoying myself.  
  
Dear Merlin, Gin! You've hardly spent any time with Draco, and already you're acting like him. It's truly amazing, you know, how fast you pick up other people's habits.  
  
"You'll never know that, will you Harry?"  
  
With that, I pushed myself away from the doorframe, and turned away from three shocked faces, quite ready to eat dinner and be able to escape from my family.  
  
They followed; I could hear three sets of footsteps on the wooden floor behind me. They said nothing however, merely trailed along behind me more or less like they had no idea where they were going. We arrived in the backyard just as the rest of the family was sitting down. I dropped into a seat between Fred and George, absently noting that Wonder Boy chose the seat opposite mine.  
  
((A/N: Just to warn you, I've thrown Percy back into the family. Even though he's the world's biggest prat, I figure it might come in useful to have him part of the Weasley clan once again, so bear with me in my insanity. *snicker*))  
  
Percy was already talking to my father, rambling on about some sort of underage drinking law, my mother was busy handing around food, and Fred and George were unusually quiet. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were chatting amiably about Quidditch, and I was quite pleased that I seemed to have been forgotten for the moment.  
  
The meal started off quite well, in my opinion. For the first little while, but for the significant looks I was receiving from Percy as he explained to my father about how the Ministry is planning on putting in place stricter laws about drinking for underage wizards and witches (apparently we aren't trusted when intoxicated, as we might go and throw a few Unforgivables around.), all was well. Fred and George were still unusually subdued, which made me a little wary, but I wasn't tormented by the Golden Trio, which was a relief.  
  
As the meal progressed, I noticed a few things. The first being that the twins had started shooting me dark looks. The second was that Harry had stopped participating in the discussion of wizard's chess between Ron and Hermione, and was constantly attempting to engage me in conversation.  
  
"Have you been training for Quidditch over the summer, Ginny?" Harry inquired, before taking a long draught of butterbeer.  
  
"No, why?" I was entirely unconcerned; last year I had been the best Chaser in the school, and I saw no reason why I should have to practice. I, after all, was not the one who had missed the Snitch twice last season.  
  
Harry nearly choked on his butterbeer, causing much unwanted attention to drift towards the two of us.  
  
"Problem, Harry?" George asked amusedly.  
  
"N-not really, George, thanks."  
  
"Then why'd you almost choke on your butterbeer?" Fred queried, smirking.  
  
"Ginny's not been practicing Quidditch." Harry said it as though it would be the end of the world, and I rolled my eyes.  
  
Both Fred and George turned to me, frowns on their faces.  
  
Now you've done it, Gin-gin! If you'd told that idiot Potter that you'd practiced, you wouldn't have to go through the impending and unavoidable lecture that's about to come spilling from the twins.  
  
"Why haven't you been practicing, Ginny?"  
  
"Because I've been doing other things, George."  
  
"Oh yes. You've been doing Malfoy. Forgot about that."  
  
"Actually, it was only the once. Sorry to disappoint."  
  
Everyone was looking at me now, eight sets of eyes following my actions, the complete attention of eight people fixed on me.  
  
Ginny, you are such a prat!  
  
"Then what was it that George and I saw from our shop window this afternoon at Diagon Alley?" Fred snarled, cracking his knuckles as though he wanted very much to hit someone.  
  
Damn it, Gin, you forgot about the shop! You're supposed to be an observant child, Virginia Weasley! You should know by now to look at your surroundings before you go doing something that's not suitable for your family to see!  
  
"What was Ginny doing?" Harry asked, his gaze locked with mine.  
  
"Talking to Malfoy."  
  
"Talking."  
  
"And kissing."  
  
"It was just one bloody kiss, you know," I felt obliged to point that out, lest they get false images plastered in their oh so overprotective minds.  
  
"You were kissing Malfoy?" Ron was livid.  
  
"Just the once. And he initiated it, not me."  
  
"THAT DOESN'T BLOODY MATTER, GINNY! YOU WERE KISSING THE ENEMY!" Ron's shout quite literally scared the birds out of the tree.  
  
I rolled my eyes, and looked down the table towards my father, who appeared quite shocked. I took a guess that he hadn't heard about my little soiree with Draco yet.  
  
"Father, may I please be excused? I believe my presence here will only further agitate Ronald, and Heaven knows I wouldn't want to be the source of his ire, or anyone else's for that matter."  
  
Arthur Weasley did nothing but nod, before looking to my mother for explanation.  
  
Smirking, I rose from my seat and took my leave of the dinner table, quite pleased with myself for raising the fury of my family so swiftly and so easily.  
  
Damn, Gin, you should be in Slytherin for the way you're acting!  
  
Ignoring my conscience, as it was always trying to ruin my fun, I trotted up the stairs to my bedroom and began to go through my school things one last time, making sure I had everything I would need for the new term.  
  
I had just finished going through my school books and supplies, and had just started on my clothes, when the all-too-familiar prickles on the back of my neck caused me to turn and faced the Boy Who Lived, who stood once again in my doorway.  
  
"What do you want, Harry?"  
  
"I've already told you that, Ginny."  
  
"I'm afraid, Mister Potter, that I want nothing to do with you. You'll have to take your virginal yearnings somewhere else."  
  
Ooh! Good one, Gin! That's damn sure to piss him off! Better watch out, though; he has a wand he can use, and he's a lot bigger than you.  
  
"What did you just say, Ginny?" His voice was cold, unpleasantly so, and I smirked, positively delighted that I'd hit a nerve.  
  
"I've told you that you'll have to go find someone else to relieve your pent-up sexual tension. I'm not a call girl, Potter."  
  
Harry advanced on me, closing the door of my bedroom behind him and pulling out his wand. I watched his lips form the words of a spell, and waited patiently from my position on the floor, surrounded by piles of socks, underwear, blue jeans, tee shirts and school uniforms.  
  
When he was standing in front of me, towering over my seated form much like a dragon towers over its handler, I sighed. Dumbledore's Golden Boy really was quite a pain in my ass.  
  
"I want you, Ginny." He said it as though I should throw myself in his arms and ravish him at the statement.  
  
"And your point is?" I was quite bored with the situation; we'd already gone through it once today.  
  
"Malfoy doesn't deserve you. I deserve you."  
  
I laughed outright at that statement, and was quite surprised to feel his hands on my upper arms, hauling me into a standing position.  
  
"Sorry to burst your over-inflated ego, Mister Potter, but I'll decide who deserves me and who doesn't. And, at the moment, Draco deserves me."  
  
He pushed me away from him, towards my bed, and I stumbled, landing with a soft thump on the mattress. Stalking towards the bed, and coming to a stop at the foot of the mattress, Harry looked me up and down.  
  
Gin, I think you're in trouble.  
  
A/N: I'm going to end this chapter here, 'cause I feel like being kinda evil and not letting you know what happens next. Meh.  
  
Now, though, I have some truly sad news to impart; school is starting back up again, and since I have classes, that means homework. And homework means less time to spend writing fics, so that means that I won't be updating as often as I should like.  
  
My most sincere apologies to all my lovely reviewers whom I love, and anyone else who reads this but doesn't review; I love you too. 


	7. Seven

His gaze traveled over my body, and I wanted desperately to cover myself up with something; it felt quite literally as though he were undressing me with his eyes. However, having the control over my impulses that had been drilled into me by none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle Himself, I restrained myself, instead allowing a pleased and taunting smirk to curl my lips.  
  
"Like what you see, Potter?" I asked, the query causing his gaze to lock with mine.  
  
"Not particularly," he answered, though I could tell from a significant glance at his crotch that he was telling a complete and utter lie.  
  
I laughed, and his face turned a wonderful shade of crimson as he turned away and stalked from my room.  
  
Huh. Not as much trouble as I thought, Gin. It seems as though you can handle yourself pretty well, when it comes to infuriating people to the point where they can't stand to be around you. Or perhaps it's just Potter...  
  
Snickering, I returned to the floor, and finished re-packing my trunk. Closing and locking the lid, I got to my feet and wandered to my closet, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything in there. The storage space was devoid of anything of importance, save for the clothes I planned on wearing on the train the following day.  
  
Turning, I was about to grab my dressing gown and head to the bathroom to prepare myself for sleep, when I heard a soft tapping on my window. Outside the pane of glass was the most beautiful Eagle Owl I had ever seen, and I knew at once that it was from Draco.  
  
Hurrying to the window, I opened it, allowing the bird to soar into my bedroom and alight on the bedpost. It carried an emerald envelope in its beak, and tied to its leg was a small package wrapped in silver paper. Taking the envelope and package, I placed them on the bed, and expected the bird to leave. When it didn't, I shrugged, assuming Draco would want a response to his letter.  
  
Slitting open the letter, the faint scent of his cologne met my nostrils, and I grinned. Pulling a sheet of the same emerald parchment from the envelope, I noticed that the script was silver. Dear Draco, Slytherin through and through.  
  
Still grinning, my gaze skimmed over the text rapidly, twice.  
  
**  
  
Dearest Virginia,  
  
I do so hope this missive and gift find you well; that your brothers have not burnt you at the stake for committing such a traitorous deed as associating with me. If you do happen to be enduring some sort of cruel and unusual punishment due to our tryst today, or our evening encounter last night, please send Apollo back with a note, and I shall fetch you this evening to prevent any more suffering on your part.  
  
I count the minutes 'til our next meeting, and wait with baited breath for your response to this letter, hoping that I shall not be required to whisk you away from your family. That you are well, as you appeared to be at our meeting this afternoon, is my heart's desire, and that the wretched and nightmarish Dream Team is not pestering you to no end.  
  
Again, if they are doing so, send Apollo with a note, and I will fetch you, to prevent further irritation on your part.  
  
Waiting,  
  
Draco  
  
**  
  
I laughed. It was the only thing I could think to do. The note was touching, truly, but I wasn't exactly sure if it was sincere. He didn't seem the type for such things, and we'd only made the deal in order to piss off as many people as possible, and to keep the Dream Team off my back.  
  
I took the letter as a sign that our deal was indeed going to take place, and that I hadn't made a complete prat of myself earlier. It was, however, a little odd, seeing as how he had told me to follow his lead at the train tomorrow; I hadn't expected this.  
  
Shrugging, I slit open the silver-wrapped parcel, and another slip of emerald parchment fell into my hands. It too was scripted with silver ink, and I read it quickly, a smirk growing on my lips.  
  
**  
  
Virginia,  
  
The missive you most likely read before this one was meant to be something you could leave lying somewhere quite conveniently for your brothers and their friends to read, serving to infuriate them further. What I said, however, about fetching you away should they be punishing you too severely, was entirely true.  
  
The gift enclosed is one that I would very much like you to wear tomorrow; it should serve to make our little charade all the more entertaining for our part. I should very much like to see Potter's face, especially, when he sees you wearing it, but I'm afraid that will probably be impossible.  
  
To warn you, this note will burn itself when you have finished reading it. The only reason being that it would serve as incriminating evidence, should our game be found out, and we wouldn't want the Dream Team to know the truth now, would we?  
  
As I said earlier, follow my lead tomorrow at the train, and all will go according to plan.  
  
Draco  
  
**  
  
As I read his name, the parchment burst into cold flames that tickled my fingers and did away entirely with the slip of paper, leaving not a single speck of ash behind. My curiosity was piqued, at the mention of a gift that made Draco want to see Harry's reaction to, and I opened the small box carefully.  
  
Inside was a small mass of fabric, that, as I pulled it out, it grew to its normal size.  
  
Gin, you've definitely got to learn that charm!  
  
When at last the contents of the box were all in my hands, I unfolded the slippery soft fabric, awed. It was green in color – typical Draco fashion – and looked entirely too small to be anything but a nightgown. Smirking, I carefully refolded the dress, stowing it in my wardrobe so as to prevent prying eyes from spying it.  
  
Following the stowing of my new gift, I turned to the owl still perched on my bedpost. Thinking, I coaxed him to the top of my wardrobe, where he wouldn't be seen by anyone until I'd had time to pen my response to Draco's letters.  
  
Pondering where, exactly, I could leave Draco's letter, I decided on forgetting it in the bathroom when I went to change. So, picking up my dressing gown and the emerald parchment, I skipped down the hall to the bathroom.  
  
Locking the door behind me, I snickered, laying the letter on the vanity, before going through my usual evening routine in preparation for bed. After applying moisturizer to my face and body, I left the bathroom and my letter, treading quietly down the hall to my bedroom.  
  
After I had crawled into bed, and just as I was opening my book, a shriek of shock belonging to one Hermione Granger reached my ears. Smiling serenely, I flipped the pages in my novel to reach the chapter I was on, and began to read, awaiting the arrival of the Golden Trio in my chambers.  
  
Exactly sixty-five seconds later, had I been counting, the Trio burst into my bedroom without so much as a knock on the door. Having prepared for this, and knowing that they would expect me to yell at them for barging into my room, I glanced up from my reading, my gaze clearly bored.  
  
The action served to infuriate them more, and a wicked smirk threatened to curl my lips and give away the game. Silently chastising myself for not having better control over my emotions, I looked from one livid face to the other, and raised a single brow in query.  
  
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?!" I wanted very much to cover my ears at Ron's shout, but refrained from doing so; any sign of intimidation would give them an advantage.  
  
My letter was clenched in his fist, and he was waving his arms wildly, clearly unable to calm himself. Again the smirk threatened to spoil my fun.  
  
"I believe, Ronald, that what you are holding in your clenched fist at the moment is a missive from Draco to myself. I also believe that you have no right to be holding it in the first place. Perhaps you should like to explain why, exactly, you are holding a quite personal letter in your hand?" My voice was plenty calm, and the effect seemed to be the opposite on my visitors; where one is usually soothed by calmness, they turned to hysterics.  
  
Hermione was furious; clearly she was getting to the end of her rope in her dealings with me. I was quite pleased at this knowledge, and stored it away to remind myself that I only had a little ways to go before she, like Ronald and Potter, would be yelling at me constantly. Potter was, if possible, more livid than Ronald, though he seemed beyond speech; his face was a beautiful shade of scarlet, and those green eyes that every woman in the wizarding world adored so much were blazing with fury. My brother, on the other hand, was quite vocal, and had started in on another tangent, of which I only caught the end.  
  
"...AND YOU DON'T EXPECT ANYONE TO SEE THIS, LYING OUT IN THE BATHROOM? HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID, GINNY?! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'R ACCEPTING LETTERS FROM MALFOY! HE PROBABLY HEXED THEM, OR SOMETHING, AND YOU'LL WAKE UP WITH NO RECOLLECTION OF WHO YOU ARE IN THE MORNING!" He paused for breath, and a bored sigh escaped my lips.  
  
"Ronald, if it disturbs you so, why don't you simply butt out? I don't ask for your attention, nor do I particularly enjoy it. Now. I suggest the three of you toddle off to play Exploding Snap, or some such thing, and leave me alone, before mother shows up and starts yelling at you for irritating me when I am getting ready for bed. If you would be so kind as to leave my missive from Draco on the desk on your way out, I might be inclined to forget about this wonderful little incident, and refrain from informing mother that the three of you burst in on me while I was changing, and wouldn't give me a chance to cover up before you started screaming at me."  
  
"Ginny, we didn't walk in on you..." Understanding dawned on Hermione's face, as I once again raised a brow, this time in a rather smug expression.  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" she breathed, pointing a finger at me. Quite the drama queen, was Miss Granger.  
  
"Look me in the eye and tell me I wouldn't, Granger," I replied, locking my gaze with that of my brother's girlfriend. She trembled.  
  
The three exchanged glances, before turning without another word and leaving the room, my brother dropping my now-crumpled letter on the desk. Following their departure, once I was certain they had completely vacated the area, I hopped out of bed and dropped into the chair in front of my desk.  
  
Pulling a sheet of black parchment towards me, the only one I had left out of my trunk to take to school, I grabbed a quill and bottle of gold ink, and prepared to write my response to Draco's letter.  
  
**  
  
Draco,  
  
You are so delightfully devilish; I can't wait to see you tomorrow so I can give you a kiss. Their – meaning the Golden Trio – reaction to your missive – which I conveniently forgot in the bathroom – was priceless. I honestly think I should invest in some anger management classes for the lot of them, they were so livid. It was beautiful.  
  
I've to give you another kiss tomorrow for the beautiful dress; it should certainly be cause for entertainment tomorrow. For us, at least.  
  
I'm not in any serious amounts of discomfort, except for the fact that I apparently have no personal space in this house. Everyone keeps barging in on me everywhere. Perhaps the most serious of issues is that Potter keeps trying to force himself on me; it's getting quite boring. He's done it twice today.  
  
Truly amusing is the fact that he seems to think that he deserves me. He thinks he's god's bloody gift to women, or something. Disgusting.  
  
Laughing,  
  
Virginia  
  
**  
  
I ended the letter with a kiss to the parchment, following my signature, and a golden image of my lips appeared on the surface of the page. Smirking, I called Draco's bird from its perch, attached the roll of parchment to its leg, and sent it out my window.  
  
For a while, I watched as the owl grew smaller and smaller as it flew into the distance, eventually turning into nothing more than a speck, and then disappearing altogether. It was as the night sky swallowed up the bird that I realized how dreadfully tired I was; being an insufferable brat is really an exhausting job.  
  
Returning to my bed, I crawled beneath the covers and soon fell into deep, dreamless sleep. 


	8. Eight

An obnoxiously loud sound from outside my window pulled me from sleep, and I opened one sleep-encrusted eye, followed by the other, to find the source of the rudeness.  
  
Slowly, I sat up, relishing in the fact that I was no longer hungover – which had been a rare occurrence indeed over the holidays – and wasn't in any pain, and padded over to the open window.  
  
At once I spotted the source of my call to early wakefulness; a raven, perched on the stone wall of the back yard, was cawing in delight at the bits of food leftover on the back lawn from our dinner last night. Wanting desperately to hex the vile creature, but not being permitted to use magic outside of school, I grumbled and pulled my dressing gown around my shoulders, before crossing the hall to the bathroom.  
  
Once inside the small chamber, I locked the door, shed my clothes, and stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water turn my skin a pale scarlet as usual in the morning. I lathered shampoo into my hair, rinsed it out, smoothed conditioner into my shoulder length curls, and rinsed that out as well. I let the water beat a tender massage over my skin for a little while longer, before turning off the tap and stepping out of the steamy shower stall.  
  
Wrapping a towel tight around my body, I began the long and arduous process of waxing my legs. When that task was done, and the skin of my limbs was a lovely, tingling pink, I rinsed the excess wax from my legs, using a lovely exfoliating body scrub from some muggle line known as Clinique.  
  
Twenty minutes later, I left the bathroom, legs silky smooth, hair tied up in a simple but classic bun, loose curls hanging down by my cheeks, framing my face. I had gone for an elegant look that I had seen in muggle magazines, one that was only usually seen around the beginning of the year, when all of those odd awards shows popped up. Makeup, demure and natural, tinted my eyes and cheeks, and I had only to wait for breakfast and teeth- brushing to be over before I applied lipstick.  
  
Making a stop at my bedroom to drop off my shower kit, I trotted downstairs in slippers and dressing gown, a delighted smile on my face. I would be on the train to school soon, would be pissing off the entire school soon, and would be back in the presence of the person most suited to my goals. These goals being, of course, to piss off everyone remotely close to me.  
  
Once in the kitchen, which was blessedly deserted, I wove through the mass of clutter that clung to the wooden floorboards, stopped at the muggle refrigerator, pulled out a carton of milk, a banana, a dozen strawberries, and exactly four raspberries. Following that, I dropped the small bundle of ingredients on the counter, padded over to the freezer, and removed from the ice-encrusted contents a container of orange sorbet, and a bag of frozen peaches.  
  
Carting the lot over to the counter where I had dropped the other ingredients for my breakfast, I made a few precise movements – namely plugging in the muggle blender, pouring a cup and a half of milk into the glass part of the blender, adding three scoops of sorbet, and turning the thing on. A lovely, headache-inducing sound greeted my actions, and I let the whirring continue for twenty-two more seconds, before stopping the mixer and throwing in my raspberries, strawberries, banana, and seven peach slices.  
  
Again, the machine started to whir, and I grinned devilishly at the thumping coming from upstairs as the sounds of my breakfast being made woke the rest of the house. Knowing I had little time before the kitchen was bustling with people, I scurried over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a rather generous amount into the thick substance sitting innocently in the blender, and whirled the whole lot together again.  
  
At last, the delicate process was finished, and I poured my breakfast into a large glass, grabbed a muggle invention known as a straw, stuck it into the pink smoothie, and began cleaning up my mess.  
  
First to be replaced was the vodka, only after I had refilled the bottle with water, so that the clear liquid reached the line of black marker on the bottle. It was tricky, you see, to make my breakfast and be able to incorporate any type of liquor into it; I had to add the right ingredients that would mask both smell and taste, so that should someone happen to drink or smell my smoothie, I wouldn't be called on my drinking of alcohol at dawn.  
  
Smirking, knowing that I could probably be considered as a raging alcoholic, if anyone knew about the various ways I snuck the wonderful substance into parts of my life that probably shouldn't have anything to do with it – like breakfast – I finished cleaning out the blender, dried it out, and was sitting comfortably at the table, drinking my breakfast, when my mother entered the kitchen.  
  
"Morning mum," I said, smiling at my exhausted looking parent.  
  
"Good morning, Ginny. You're rather chipper for such an early hour..." My mother replied with a yawn, flicking her wand at the coffee maker and taking a seat opposite me at the kitchen table.  
  
"I can't help it," I grinned, though for reasons I wasn't about to tell my mother, "it's almost time to go back to Hogwarts..."  
  
"What's this? Ginny... excited about going back to school?" That was Percy's voice, as he trotted into the kitchen like a pompous puppy dog, and dropped into the seat beside mum.  
  
"Yes, I'm excited about going back to school."  
  
"Why?"  
  
God he's so infuriating... Punch him, will you, Gin?  
  
Drawing on my considerable acting skills, I smiled sweetly at my brother, and shrugged, before taking a sip of my vodka laced smoothie and answering him.  
  
"I've got NEWT level courses, I'm a Prefect, and I'm on the Quidditch team. It's going to be a wonderful year..."  
  
Percy smiled and nodded his head in arrogant acknowledgement that I was apparently just like him when I was at school, before rising and pouring he and mum each a cup of steaming coffee.  
  
Soon enough, as the morning grew steadily brighter, the kitchen filled with the rest of my family, not to mention Harry and Hermione. They all had their pancakes, waffles, sausages and toast for breakfast, while I finished off my liquor-infused smoothie before excusing myself – under the suspicious glares of the Dream Team and the twins – and heading back upstairs.  
  
Stifling a yawn, I made my way down the short hallway to my bedroom, and grabbed my toothbrush and lipsticks from my shower kit.  
  
Knowing I was the only person not eating breakfast, I disappeared into the bathroom contentedly, oddly at peace with the fact that, should I need it, I could have the entire floor – namely just the bathroom, my bedroom, and a linen closet – all to myself.  
  
Shrugging slightly, I brushed my teeth slowly, the bristles of the toothbrush scrubbing small circles around my teeth. Spitting out the minty- blue foam that had accumulated in my mouth, I gagged on the bit of sweet mint tasting liquid that slid down my throat.  
  
Coughing, I rinsed off my toothbrush and wiped my mouth, cleaning tiny flecks of blue foam from my mouth with the aid of a blue terry cloth towel. Turning back to the mirror that hung only slightly crooked above the vanity that was for once devoid of cosmetic cases, I examined my reflection staring back at me from the silver sheet.  
  
My eyes were shadowed with a neutral color just a shade darker than my own skin tone, and lined with a soft brown that accentuated the warm brandy of my irises. My cheeks had been tinted with a soft pink, and the freckles that splashed across my nose and cheeks had been softened with the aid of a light concealer. Ponderously, I flicked through the half dozen tubes of lipstick I had brought with me, spotted the one I wanted, and slid the colored cosmetic over my lips.  
  
Sighing softly, I collected my things, and returned to my bedroom, checking my watch as I did so.  
  
Damn! Ten o'clock already! Time certainly flies when you're plotting about the best possible way to piss off your family, and wondering what plans your accomplice has up his sleeve.  
  
I slipped through the partially open door of my room, and closed it solidly behind me. A quick examination of the premises – such as they were – showed no sign of a lurking Boy Wonder, seeing as how he was so keen to see me dress myself – I imagine it's a fetish of his, and I feel sorry for the poor woman who will become his wife – and proceeded to slide into the glove- like garment my darling Draco had sent me.  
  
It wasn't uncomfortably tight, thank Merlin, or I would have suffocated. As it was, I noticed as I looked in the mirror that my chest seemed to have grown, and my hips to have become more streamlined, giving me the coveted hourglass figure that is virtually impossible to attain through natural means. I smirk at my reflection.  
  
The fabric fell in a slightly jagged, artfully torn asymmetrical line from the middle of my left thigh to just below my right knee. The bodice restricted my breathing fairly minimally, although I noted that if I sighed, I felt like I was choking.  
  
Better not sigh, then, Gin; you don't want to ruin this lovely game by dying, now do you?  
  
"Shut up," I muttered to the cheeky party of my brain that sounded rather an uncomfortable lot like Fred and George when they spoke in unison, and re- examined the package Draco had sent me, which I had tossed on my bed upon pulling it and the dress out of my wardrobe.  
  
My suspicions were confirmed, as I pulled out a pair of shoes – strappy silver stilettos – and a silver clutch bag, each of which returned to its normal size upon leaving the confines of the tiny box. Grinning, I pulled on the shoes, enjoying the added two inches to my height.  
  
"GINNY! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE! WE'VE GOT TO GO!" Ron's voice, horribly loud, floated up the staircase and through my closed bedroom door.  
  
I didn't bother to answer, instead examined my reflection once more, grabbed my clutch, tossed the essentials inside – namely lipstick, compact, lip gloss, eyeliner and wallet – and closed the clasp. I curled one hand around the handle of my school trunk, and started the long and laborious process of dragging it down the hallway.  
  
Shit, Gin, this thing's bloody heavy...  
  
At last, I reached the main floor, which was devoid of people – my family already being outside, waiting at the cars supplied by the Ministry. The Ministry hadn't even bothered to lie this time – they wanted Harry alive, and the only way they could ensure that, before he got on the train to school, was by supplying very well guarded vehicles to transport him to the train station.  
  
Proceeding to pull the suitcase through the deserted kitchen and outside, I noticed two things. The first being that there was an incredibly large crowd waiting by the sleek black cars, the second being that the Boy-Who- Should-Have-Died was staring at me. Or gaping, rather.  
  
An easy smirk curled my lips, as a member of the crowd approached and lifted the embossed, worn trunk from the ground as easily as though it were made of cotton fluff, and I sauntered towards my now-scowling family. Or part of my family, rather, as my parents had been called to Order Headquarters – Dumbledore had requested we not stay there this summer, something about safety and top secret plans – and Fred, George, Percy, Bill and Charlie had all gone off to work.  
  
So, unfortunately, it was just the Golden Trio and myself who would be making the long and arduous trip to King's Cross.  
  
"What are you wearing, Ginny?" Ronald, ever overprotective and eager to get slapped round the face.  
  
"It's called a dress, Ronald," I replied, slowly, as though speaking to a child.  
  
"There is no way that's a dress!"  
  
"Granger, I assure you, it is a dress. I wouldn't be wearing it otherwise."  
  
"You're going to go change, Ginny."  
  
"You aren't my mother, Potter. Now. I suggest the three of you go settle yourselves in that car over there, while I take this one, and you can have a nice little discussion about how much of a whore I am, and about how I am in desperate need of a reality check."  
  
Snickering, as they clambered into one of the two waiting cars like obedient puppies, I slid into the other, relishing the solitude.  
  
I could get used to this...  
  
All too soon, thanks to the magically enhanced properties of the vehicles, we arrived at Kings Cross, and I was being escorted into the station, flanked by the two suits who had accompanied me in my, ahem, limousine.  
  
Not surprisingly, I was receiving wonderful death glares from the Trio, who were being escorted by their own entourage – which was larger than mine, considering the fact that Harry Potter, the boy-who-should-have-bloody-well- died-by-now, was present.  
  
I sauntered through the barrier of platform nine and three quarters, still flanked by my personal goons. They were getting kind of irritating, really. I mean, if Voldie wanted to come right out and kill me, he could damn well try, but I was pretty sure he would go after Potter, first.  
  
Now you know how Draco must feel.  
  
Blinking at that thought, I looked around for my 'business associate' and promptly spotted him bidding farewell to his parents. Or mother, rather. His father was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Going to go say high to your boyfriend?" Potter inquired childishly from behind.  
  
I turned.  
  
"Honestly Potter, I should think you'd be above First Year taunts, by now." I retorted, raising a brow.  
  
"Yes, well, Ginny, we thought you were above Malfoy, but apparently we were wrong."  
  
"Actually, Granger, I think I've always been under him. He's a domineering little snake, that one."  
  
And, smirking at their appalled looks, and Ron's swift fall into shock, I sauntered towards Draco and his mother, dragging my new pets along with me.  
  
"Ah, there you are, pet. I was wondering if you were ever going to make it, or if your family had put you under lock and key. But, now that you're here, I'd like you to meet someone," Draco announced smoothly, upon spotting me.  
  
I turned to Lady Malfoy, who was rather like a female version of her son, barring the more condescending look on her features. Draco just looked... mocking, most of the time.  
  
"Virginia, this is my mother Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, this is the girl I was telling you about, Virginia Weasley."  
  
A charming, if somewhat chill, smile curled the older woman's lips, and I returned it in kind.  
  
Careful, Gin...  
  
"Ms. Weasley. A pleasure to meet you." Her voice, rather like that of her son, was charming, laced with honeyed poison.  
  
"And the same to you, Lady Malfoy," I replied easily, warily.  
  
Draco smirked, bid farewell to his mother, before dragging me off down the platform. My goons followed.  
  
"Draco," I whined in his ear, petulant, "is there any way to get rid of those two?" I gestured behind.  
  
He turned, taking in the Ministry appointed guards who had been trailing behind me like lost puppy dogs. With a slight shake of his head, he motioned me to stop, and sauntered to where the two uniformed men stood, conspicuous in their attempt at looking inconspicuous.  
  
Damn, Gin. Does everyone get lessons in being inconspicuous from the same place?  
  
I wondered, recalling the event in Diagon Alley the previous day.  
  
A few moments later, my blond pet returned, and the two goons disappeared – as much as was possible for them – into the crowd, no doubt seeking out their counterparts.  
  
Draco linked my arm in his, and we strolled through the crowd, our baggage having been already stowed somewhere on the lengthy scarlet steam engine belching black smoke by the side of the platform. The masses of mostly robed figures parted before us, and I rather felt like I was in that muggle story about that old religious coot who parted the sea, to help some impoverished serfs escape, or some such thing.  
  
Shrugging off the thought, I smirked a little at the looks we were receiving. Naturally, from the females, I was receiving glares shot through with envy and jealousy, while the males looked rather disgusted with my choice of companions. Draco, on the other hand, was on the receiving end of many disgustingly lust-filled glances from the girls who were not too busy glaring at me, and looks of respectful contempt from the males.  
  
He pulled me onto the train, a while later, and we went in search of a compartment not full to bursting with irritating prats. Our hunt was rather unsuccessful.  
  
As we were wandering down the train, we were apprehended by none other than Pansy Parkinson and her entourage – namely Blaise Zabini, raven haired beauty, and Millicent Bulstrode, the female equivalent of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle – who seemed quite put out.  
  
"What are you doing here, Weasel?" Parkinson. Never one to come up with a witty... anything, really.  
  
"I happen to be looking for a compartment, wench," I retorted easily.  
  
Parkinson, as well as her entourage, spluttered. I had never really been one to sling about such nasty words – as my mother would call them – so freely.  
  
"Go look down the Gryffindor end. I won't have you polluting our... air... down here." Genius, wasn't she? Pausing to find something that I could pollute.  
  
I raised a brow.  
  
"Trust me, love. You're the pollution. Now, why don't you be a dear, and go find a nice trash can to throw yourself into, and save me the trouble, hmm?"  
  
Zabini fixed me with what I assumed was supposed to be an acid glare, and Bulstrode cracked her knuckles in a gesture that would have any normal girl running for her life. I blinked.  
  
"Come along, pet. We've better things to do." Draco pushed me lightly in the small of my back, and I swayed by the three Slytherins, childishly sticking my tongue out at them as I passed.  
  
A little way down the train, I stopped walking, remembering something I had promised him in my letter. I spun round, having to look up in order to see his face rather than his shoulder, and balanced on my toes, bringing my lips to his.  
  
The first kiss was gentle, little more than a brush of my lips against his own. The second was a little more intense, as he pulled me closer, lifting my chin with his hand. The third – which I hadn't actually intended to give – involved a little tongue, when he nibbled on my bottom lip.  
  
We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and I pulled away slowly, cheeks lightly flushed. I turned towards the sound, as did Draco, to see – what a surprise – the Dream Team attempting to look furious instead of sickened.  
  
"Do you mind? You're in our way." Ooh, Granger was being snotty, was she?  
  
"Go around, mudblood," Draco sneered, and the appropriate smirk curled my lips – though I was still rather disgusted with the term.  
  
The three gaped, and the smallest of shrugs lifted Draco's shoulders. He turned back to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the nearest compartment. Which, surprisingly enough, was empty.  
  
Potter and his entourage were about to follow, when Draco slid shut the compartment door, and sealed it with a well-placed, quickly cast spell. Through the frosted glass, we could see Granger throwing charm after charm at the warded door, in an attempt to get through. I snickered.  
  
"I've a gift for you, pet," he stated, reaching into his pocket.  
  
"Another one?" I queried, raising a brow.  
  
"Of course."  
  
He withdrew a cubical package from a pocket in his robes, and presented it to me with a small flourish. I unwrapped it slowly, pulling at the tissue paper with my index finger, but apparently my toy was a little impatient. He tugged the gift out of my palm, and opened it himself, displaying the contents of the black velvet box with yet another flourish.  
  
I gasped.  
  
"Why?" I was curious, really, as to why he would give me such an expensive gift. We were only playing a game, after all.  
  
"You didn't expect me to give up this chance to make Parkinson exceedingly jealous, did you? In the time I was with her, I gave her nothing more than a pair of pearl earrings." He smirked at the thought.  
  
I took one of the chandelier-style emerald earrings in my palm, and examined it closely.  
  
Shit, Gin! You should've thought of this farce earlier!  
  
"Do you like them?" Draco asked, watching as I slid first the left and then the right earring through my pierced lobes.  
  
He fastened the matching necklace around my neck.  
  
I turned, after the clasp fell securely against the flesh of my neck, and planted a sound kiss on his smirking lips.  
  
Needless to say, we spent the rest of the train ride enjoying the pastime that makes being a teenager so goddamn fun.  
  
A/N: Bah. Long, crap, and boring chapter, but it's almost exam time, and I felt like I had been neglecting you, seeing as how I promised a chapter like a month ago, and it just didn't happen. It's been pretty much the same with my other fics. My most humble apologies, but I'll write my little arse off in a week and a half, since school and graduation will be officially done by then. 


End file.
